The Devil's Contract
by Maiika
Summary: Alternate Universe. Her greatest sin was ambition, but more than she realized, she was capable of many sins. That asset, more than her success, caught the boss' eye. A Vegebul one-shot. Mature content.


A/N: This is for the TPTH plot bunny challenge. The devil was perfect, because I've had that plot bunny in my head for a long while. I don't have time for new stories, but fortunately I could fit this into a one-shot. It has mature content, and takes place in the real world, to as much extent as a devil story can.

* * *

It had been another successful day in the none-too-glamorous life of Bulma Brief. For every high-paying client Bulma served in this business, another even wealthier, needier slime bag would take its place. She'd hate to think any could get worse than her most recent client, though - a filthy rich company run by a devious family willing to sell children into slavery if it would make them a buck.

Still, winning the case paid off, as it always did. Bulma just had to put aside any feelings of sympathy for the little men run out of house, home, and possessions due to her client's victory. There was no room for sympathy in law.

A small, yet subdued smile eased across Bulma's mocha-tinted lips as she leaned back in her cushy black leather office chair, tapping a French-manicured finger on her lacquered brown desk. She was one hell of a lawyer, better than any of her classmates from law school or even some junior partners here at Prince & Associates. She only needed the boss to give her the recognition she knew she deserved now.

The hall outside her glass wall was quiet, still doused in florescent light, though most of the visible offices across the way were already darkened and vacant. She stayed late quite often, but this evening was a later night than usual, even for her.

As she glanced over her shoulder at the pitch-black view from her large seamless window, she figured it was about time she headed home. Her motions stacked on her desk, in need of filing, could wait until morning. As she gathered her leather purse from beneath her desk and slid her dainty feet back into the black patent pumps taking a break beside the purse, Bulma unbuttoned the top button of her red piped blouse, anticipating the moment she could walk out that door and ditch the constricting blazer and heels again.

A buzz- familiar, intriguing, and unsettling at this hour- sounded from the phone on her desk. With a raised brow, Bulma bit her lip while pressing the blinking button on her phone's keypad. "Yes? This is Brief."

 _"Miss Brief,"_ a snide, pompous, male voice responded, _"Mr. Prince requests your presence in his office."_

 _Mr. Prince_ was the very asshole who'd refused to give Bulma any acknowledgement for her record number of winning cases, never even gifted her with a show of his face or the sound of his voice in the form of congratulation. As far as Bulma knew, no one but his egotistical, hard-to-reach assistant even knew what the guy looked like. He didn't even have a partner in this large firm, so Bulma knew he either had to be absolutely full of himself and hateful of other people, or some really damn efficient lawyer. But for him to finally summon her, at such a late hour of the evening, was a highly unexpected turn of events.

"N-now?"

 _"When Mr. Prince requests your presence, Lady, he means now. I suggest you get your pretty ass to the penthouse."_

Bulma grit her teeth, holding back a slew of curses for the disrespectful prick who probably didn't even have a law degree. "Mr. Raditz, the next time I hear the words 'pretty ass' from your mouth, you'll be eating them. And you can bet there'll be a sexual harassment suit to follow."

 _"Hn. I can see why Mr. Prince has taken an interest in you."_

The assistant's cool reaction to her threat infuriated Bulma further. After being threatened by someone as formidable and serious as Bulma Brief, that asshole should've been acting on the defensive. As far as Mr. Prince's _interest_ , that had Bulma's suspicion growing.

"What-what is this about?"

A long pause ensued, where Bulma thought the call might've been disconnected, until Raditz's voice came out in a tone of amusement. _"Have a nice evening, Miss Brief. If things don't pan out well for you, you'll be hearing from me again in the morning."_

"If things don't pan out _well_ for me?" Bulma exclaimed in a rush, hearing the click of a disconnection as she shot to her feet. "Hey! What the hell do you mean?"

Baring her teeth and clenching her fists, Bulma glared at the phone receiver whose lights went out. She growled as she unclenched one hand to run it through her slick, pixie-cut locks of bluish-black hair. She could either respond to Mr. Prince's summons as he wanted and expected her to do, go home and ignore what could be the greatest opportunity of her career, or go about this her own way.

With her head held high, Bulma put one patented heel in front of the other, proceeding out of her office, down the hall, and towards the elevator that would lead her up to the penthouse of Prince & Associates. The elevator lobby was just as well-lit as the hall, and as Bulma pushed the glowing round button to summon the elevator and then crossed her arms, she took one last glance down the hall to have the unsettling realization that she seemed to be completely alone on her floor.

When the bell sounded to announce the elevator's arrival and those metallic doors parted, Bulma fixed her gaze through the gap, her heart leaping in her chest. Having no idea why, she suspected that someone would emerge from that elevator, someone she wouldn't want to see. Though it arrived as empty as her seventh floor hallway, Bulma felt uneasy stepping into that vacant elevator and pressing the button for the top floor.

On the ride up, she wondered what kind of man Prince was, aside from a wealthy lawyer with no family. She pictured an older man, ornery and wrinkled, with a coarse voice and harsh persona to match it. Eating away at her was a strong misgiving about finding at this meeting the satisfying recognition she was waiting for. But she decided if her high-powered boss couldn't recognize Bulma's potential once he met her face-to-face, he wasn't the type of man she could respect as an employer.

The elevator lurched and abruptly halted before Bulma took in a sharp breath and watched those elevator doors slide open. A rush of warm air entered the elevator and before she even stepped out, Bulma could tell that the elusive lawyer liked his darkness. The only lighting outside of the elevator was dancing off a pair of burning torches framing the arched entryway leading into the rest of the dark-curtain-and-glass-window-framed penthouse. Beyond that, it was even warmer and darker. Light danced off the tea lights lining the long, glass shelves on both walls, leading her to an ornately-carved, black desk with a pair of wingback leather chairs angled towards it.

With a huff, Bulma felt a bead of sweat trickle down her brow. She peeled off her blazer for some relief as she toed her way across the soundless carpet, towards the desk where a vague silhouette sat cloaked in darkness.

"Miss Brief, by all means," a smooth, deep timbred voice stopped her in her tracks, "make yourself comfortable."

His tone contradicted his welcoming words. Bulma fidgeted as her second jacket sleeve fell loose from the cuff of her wrist. She didn't wish to offend the man, at least not yet, when she didn't even know what his angle was. But it was sweltering in his penthouse. If he expected her to remain fully dressed in her fitted skirt suit, he _had_ to be an asshole.

Shooting the dark figure a firm glare, Bulma hung her jacket and haughtily seated herself in one of the wingback chairs. "I don't mind if I _do_."

His chin lowered towards her as she crossed her legs. An expectant silence passed for Bulma as he shuffled around with something in the darkness behind his desk. When the silence passed for too long, with Bulma feeling like Mr. Prince's eyes were on her the whole time, Bulma raised her brows. "Mr. Prince?"

The response was not more words from his silky voice, but the switch of a lighter, just before a tiny flame appeared above Mr. Prince's desk, highlighting the features of his previously obscured face. Bulma nearly gasped at the sight of his most prominent features shadowed behind the dull, moving light. His chiseled jawline, his perfectly proportioned nose, his strong chin, and the blackness of his deep-set eyes were completely contrary to what she expected. Her boss was a young man, and devilishly handsome.

"Vegeta."

Bulma furrowed her brows as she leaned forward to watch his moving lips highlighted by that flame, and perched between those lips, the cigar with brightly glowing, red embers at the tip. "Wh-what?"

"Call me Vegeta, and I will call you Bulma. I've never been one for formal names."

His _name_. She had never heard Mr. Prince's first name before, she realized. As Bulma opened her mouth to question him further on what she was doing there, she became mesmerized by the sight of that cigar light growing while it hissed from burning off so quickly.

"I've had my eye on you for a long time, now, Bulma." He said as a plume of smoke wiggled from his lips and faded into the darkness. "I have to say, I'm quite impressed."

A smirk immediately tugged at Bulma's lip. "You're referring to my most recent trial. I hope our clients are satisfied."

"Oh, they are." Vegeta let out a low chuckle. "Can't say the same for Namek Enterprises, though."

Namek Enterprises, the company whose suit she'd squashed, really should have had rights to the money they claimed. The Cold Company was worth billions and had absolutely destroyed some of Namek's people in the illegal expansion of their empire, but Bulma was able to convince the court otherwise.

"Yes, well," Bulma shimmied her shoulders and raised her chin, " _someone_ had to lose, and it wasn't going to be me."

A flash of teeth sparkled at her as the glowing cigar tip was waved through the darkness. "Many people will be left homeless, penniless. That doesn't bother you?"

Bulma felt her stomach lurch at the thought. She tried not to think about that. Her employer, on the other hand, sounded almost smitten by the idea of what they'd done.

" _You_ don't seem upset about it…Vegeta."

"No. But you - you really are a cutthroat attorney, aren't you?"

That wasn't _exactly_ the reputation Bulma was going for, but she supposed there was some truth to it. And if that was what was going to make her partner, she felt no hesitation about owning up to it.

Bulma smiled. "I can't imagine anyone more cutthroat than me."

Vegeta let out a deep, throaty chuckle as the cigar was squashed into his desk. "You have no idea."

Bulma watched as a thick cloud of smoke broke through the darkness. There was a darkness to this man, _that_ she could tell beyond a doubt. Something about his words, his demeanor, seemed too perfect, too suave, even for a successful lawyer. She couldn't believe a man as attractive, rich and successful as Vegeta would remained holed up in this dark penthouse, living as a recluse rather than showing himself off around town.

As the smoke dissipated, Vegeta's voice drew Bulma's attention back to his shadowy silhouette. "Like I said, I've had my eye on you for quite some time. I know everything there is to know about you, Bulma."

"Really?" Bulma raised a brow, smirking as she leaned forward and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "I must be important, then. Does this mean what I think it means?"

A rush of excitement made Bulma's smile widen. She knew this day would come. If anyone would ever be invited to partner with Mr. Prince, it was going to be her. She'd made damn sure of it while making her way up in the ranks at the firm.

"Tell me. Do you have a significant other?"

Bulma balked, affronted and confused by the off-topic question. It was borderline inappropriate for an employer to ask his employee such a question, and a minute ago, they were just discussing a possible promotion to partnership. Besides, this completely contradicted his previous claim about her. She knew he was full of shit.

Bulma narrowed her blue eyes at him. "If you really knew everything there was to know about me, Vegeta, you don't need to ask that question."

"You're right." Smirking, Vegeta leaned over his desk so she could see him more clearly. "I didn't need to ask that question, but I did want to see your reaction. You didn't disappoint."

Bulma took a deep breath as Vegeta receded back into the darkness, the memory of his coal-black eyes still burning into her as she settled. She felt a flash of heat, though she didn't know whether it was from the temperature of the room, or her body's reaction to having such a seductive man in such close proximity to her. But as she refocused her attention on their conversation, Bulma rolled her eyes. She felt she was being conned now. Her boss couldn't know anything about her personal life beyond what was in her personnel file.

To her surprise, a form swept up and approached her from the side of the desk, not as tall as she would expect a man with such a grand personality and reputation, but carrying himself just as she would expect. When the debonair man in a black, expensive pantsuit took the seat in the wingback chair beside her and locked his gaze on her wide eyes, their knees nearly touching, Bulma forgot how to breathe. This was all too surreal.

"Bulma Brief," he breathed, his breath like fire on her cheeks, even with a significant gap between them, "what are you willing to do to acquire this partnership? How far would you go?"

As his eyes narrowed at her, heartbreaking and terrifying all at once, Bulma swallowed thickly, shaking her head side to side. She had to stand by her claim of being one of the best, one of the most ruthless, and definitely _the_ best in this firm. What was she willing to do?

Anything.

"What-" she let out a ragged breath, "what do you want?"

The tip of a pink tongue slowly protruded from between Vegeta's smooth lips, sliding across them as his eyes widened in excitement. "You."

What Bulma took as an intriguing sexual invitation, Vegeta quickly acted upon, as if he could read her mind. His ability to do so seemed even truer when he moved in to press his tantalizing lips against hers and ran his hands through her hair and around her neck just the way she wanted, feeding into her sensual desires she'd been trying to subdue.

Bulma moaned when his tongue pressed between her lips, feeding her the most intoxicating flavor from his cigar-tainted tongue while his hands were giving her the most carnal touches she'd ever felt on her body. His hands were like fire and as one fell on her thigh, Bulma inhaled a staggered breath. She then reciprocated the touch with a hand against his chest. When she curled her fingers to feel him through his silk shirt, she couldn't believe the solid feel of his muscle. He was like a rock, and as her hand glided down to feel the contours of the rest of his muscles covering his abdomen, she was pleasantly surprised to find they were perfectly chiseled, like a work of art.

Vegeta broke the kiss, panting into Bulma's parted lips with his eyes narrowed. "You'd do this for me, to make partner?"

Bulma closed her eyes and exhaled. "I'd do anything to make partner, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit this is just as much for me as it is for you."

A throaty growl came from Vegeta's mouth as his lips pressed against hers again in a bruising, forceful kiss. His hand slid beneath the material of her fitted skirt, pulling it up along with his smooth touch until Bulma's black panties peeked from beneath. As he gave them a violent tug, Bulma squealed sharply, then moaned as Vegeta grasped the back of her neck and deepened their kiss, practically swallowing her whole. Bulma lifted her hips from the leather seat to help him remove the panties, while making quick work of the buttons lining the front of his shirt. As her shaking hands unfastened one, then another, her heart rate quickened. Her hands were nearly at his pants when she realized she was _really_ doing this.

It was like she was being propelled by a spell, a spell that she would willingly put herself under again if given the choice. Latching her fingers around the strap and buckle of Vegeta's belt, Bulma gave a sharp tug before slipping it free of the belt loops of his tailored pants. While she concentrated on that, Vegeta's warm breath hovered over her cheek, warming her neck before moist, succulent kisses were pressed against her throat.

As Vegeta's tongue lapped at her soft skin, Bulma quivered, tossing Vegeta's belt aside and completing the task of freeing him from his pants. There was no chance for her to see what he was packing down there, as his pants dropped and he pressed the crook of his hand around her throat, forcing her to look up towards the candlelit ceiling. Her leg was hooked from behind her knee by his strong arm, and her body was slid down the tufted leather cushion to accommodate his angle as he forced himself deep inside her with one thrust, right there on the chair.

Bulma screamed. The surprise of that unexpected intrusion, the brief pain that tore through her folds, and the following pleasant pressure as she felt him filling her completely were all wound into that scream.

Vegeta moved his lips from her neck, meeting her lips again as he pulled his hips back, then pressed into her again with a grunt. Bulma closed her eyes, her breath staggering as she struggled to hold on to him, to not slide off that soft leather cushion, though Vegeta had her fully supported with his one arm hooked beneath her leg while his other stabilized against the arm of the chair.

The bouncing motion made the chair creak as Bulma let him continue to ride her, feeling dirty for doing this with a man she'd just met, of whom she'd barely had a clear view, but feeling more exhilarated than she'd ever felt at the same time. She'd never had a man make her feel like this. He seemed almost inhumanly good at what he was doing as he repeatedly pressed in at just the right angle, hitting the most satisfying areas within her on every thrust. Even if he couldn't find the right angle, she was certain he would have been one hell of a lover, because his cock felt massive inside her.

On one particularly deep thrust, Bulma cried out, tossing her head back. "Ahhhhh!"

It became all too much. The sweltering air around them had Bulma dripping with sweat as Vegeta's moist skin burned against hers. His strong grip holding her in position was impossible to wiggle away from now, even if she wanted to. But what she _wanted_ was to keep curling into that gorgeous man and begging him to keep sticking that huge cock inside her.

"You're going to cum for me now."

Vegeta's huskily-voiced order made Bulma shiver. She almost wanted to resist for the sake of being stubborn. No one ever told her when it was time to cum. But as his hand holding her leg slipped up her thigh to cusp her ass and give it a pleasurable squeeze, Bulma screamed at the hard thrust of his cock that accompanied it. It was too deep and too delicious for her to ignore. The small point within her which concentrated with a massive sensation of pleasure expanded in waves until the pleasure encompassed her whole body, down to the tingling nerves of her toes.

Bulma panted, her body collapsing into Vegeta's as he thrust deeply one more time before giving out a deep cry of his own and then pumping frantically into her until he came to a shuddering stop as well. He didn't hold onto her for even a moment longer after his climax. As Vegeta pulled out, leaving Bulma sitting in a moist spot on the leather chair, Bulma struggled to catch her breath, to slow her heart rate. Yet, Vegeta seemed immediately composed as he stood upright and fixed his pants.

"Yes," Vegeta sighed, "you are impressive."

Bulma wiggled into an upright position and tugged her skirt over her bare bottom. "I-I can't believe I just did that."

"I was surprised as well. But now that I know how committed you are to this goal, I can make you that offer."

"What?" Bulma blinked. "What offer?"

The only offer she'd heard about since entering that office had been for a partnership, if she was willing to give herself to him. She'd done just that. If he wanted more from her, he had to be pulling her strings. She'd just done an awful, terrible thing. He had no idea what a cold, calculated move she was making for this promotion.

"The offer to become a partner at this law firm. I haven't taken a partner for many years, Bulma. This is a big deal."

"I-I just had _sex_ with you!"

"That…wasn't the offer. You wanted it, so I fed your desire."

"Oh, God. I-" Bulma swallowed and barely noted Vegeta cringing at her words as she ran a hand through her moist hair clinging to her forehead, "you don't understand. I never should've done this. You said - to become partner - you said you _wanted_ me."

"I wasn't talking about your body." Vegeta leaned in to graze Bulma's hair, sniffing Bulma in one long whiff as she clenched her eyes shut. "Though there's nothing I enjoy more than a woman _doused_ in sin. Tell me. Will Yamcha be heartbroken? Will you feel guilty if he cries when you tell him?"

As Vegeta cackled in amusement, Bulma felt her heart leap in her throat. "H-how do you know about Yamcha?"

"I already told you." Vegeta dismissively adjusted his cuff links. "I know everything there is to know about you, Bulma Brief. Twenty-eight, graduated summa cum laude, never married, no children, twenty consecutive winning trials, local parents, sister out of state, live-in boyfriend of ten years…and a very erotic screamer. Now, do you still want to become a partner?"

Bulma forced herself to take a deep breath, shying away from the intense gaze of the man standing over her. His stare, even when she wasn't looking at it, made her heart rush with fear. Even now, after being sexually satisfied by and still feeling attracted to that very man, she felt frightened by him. He wasn't just a cutthroat lawyer. He was something else.

"What," Bulma daringly looked up to meet his gaze, "what did you mean when you said you wanted me, then?"

Vegeta leaned down, his eyes looking deeply into hers as their noses nearly touched. "I want your everything, Bulma Brief. Namely, your soul."

"My soul?" Bulma chuckled the word, rolling her eyes and temporarily forgetting the domineering presence of her surroundings as Vegeta stood upright. "Yeah, right. Don't play games with me, Mr. Prince. Just tell me what I need to do. I'm sure you can see by now that I'm willing to do anything to get this."

"Vegeta, _not_ Mr. Prince." Vegeta said sternly, before seating himself on the arm of Bulma's chair. "Sometimes, my namesake sounds more appropriate when used differently in different contexts. I think it would be more recognizable to you if I went by my other names like The Prince of Darkness, Satan, Antichrist, Lucifer...but damn, I hate that one."

"Wait." Bulma said. "The devil?"

She scratched her head, trying to process everything her boss was trying to tell her. This suave, capable lawyer was suddenly trying to claim he was the devil. Here she had thought he was above scrutiny, unbeatable at whatever he might do, and it turned out he was just a lunatic. She was going to have to ease her way out of this situation. Once she got out of that penthouse, out of that _building_ , she needed to collect her things and find a new law firm.

"Yes, the devil." Vegeta's eyes narrowed at her as a grim frown crossed his face. "I'm not a lunatic. And packing up your shit and leaving this office is not going to rid you of me now, Bulma Brief. You are on my radar, wherever you might go. Once an adept sinner, always a sinner. I need a woman like you."

Bulma shook her head. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be real. The devil really existed? No, he was playing some sort of mind games.

Vegeta huffed arrogantly. "I don't have anything against mind games, but I _am_ losing my patience for them right now, Bulma. Sign over your soul, and rather than stalking and tormenting you for the rest of your worthless life, I'll make sure you get whatever your temporarily-beating heart desires. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Whatever my heart desires? You mean there's _more_ to this than a partnership?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "If you want it drafted in the contract."

"So," Bulma smiled, her eyes lighting up, "along with the partnership, I can…wish to maintain this beautiful figure forever?"

"I'm not a _fucking_ fairy!"

Bulma would have been amused by Vegeta's outburst, but as the multitude of flames surrounding them blazed along with the reddening of his face, Bulma pressed her lips tightly together and kept her mouth shut. Shit. She wasn't imagining this. He really _was_ the fucking devil.

"You're not making _wishes_. You're drafting and signing a binding contract with me."

"And all you want in return," Bulma narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "is my soul?"

"Yes. Good deal, isn't it?"

"I won't notice any penalties to this as long as I'm alive?"

Vegeta reached for the desk behind him to retrieve a paper with a smug smile on his face. "Not at all. Decide on your conditions."

With a snap of Vegeta's fingers, the room became illuminated by some mysterious source. As Vegeta handed her the paper and a pen, Bulma gazed around the pristine, masculine office and gnawed her bottom lip. She never, in a million years, would've thought she'd be considering a contract with the devil. But the things she could have, the desires she could satisfy which until today couldn't be possible were endless. Money, fame, material possessions, a dreamy lifestyle. But there had to be a catch. There was always a catch, which had to be especially true when dealing with the _genuine_ fucking devil.

Tapping the pen against her chin, Bulma raised her gaze from the generic contract to Vegeta's stern gaze. "What happens _after_ I die?"

Vegeta cocked a brow, before his gorgeous lips pulled at one side. "Do you really want to know?"

Images of fire and brimstone, gruesome, bloody mutilation, and demonic, monstrous creatures immediately flashed through Bulma's head.

Bulma shook her head, gripping her pen and returning her gaze to the contract. "No."

With some hesitation, she began filling out her demands on her end of the contract, within the parameters of the generic outline already provided, feeling dubious that this all could really happen. But if Vegeta could really make this come to fruition for her, devil or not, her ambitions were not forgotten. With the devil by her side, she would not only make partner at _this_ law firm, but be a partner at the _best_ law firm in the world. Bulma Brief would be unstoppable.

When she finished with what was the majority of her contract, her hand hesitated over the finishing touch, the signature line. She couldn't stop the shaking in her wrist, but she somehow ordered her hand to write, even as a part of her was screaming inside that this was wrong. But she had no time to be absorbed by that thought, as the contract was swiped from her the instant she finished dotting her 'i'.

"Hn." Vegeta held the paper in both hands, reading it over and glancing at Bulma in between lines. "Done."

"Done? Just like that?"

As Vegeta gave her a firm nod, Bulma bent over to sweep her discarded panties from the ground, stepping into them before she looked up at him expectantly.

"Tell you what." Vegeta handed Bulma the contract, inclining his chin towards her as a smug grin crossed his face. "You take it home and read it over tonight. Once you've finalized the details, bring it to my office first thing in the morning."

Bulma took the contract and raised a brow. "I _could_ just rip this up, you know."

"You could, but you won't."

Bulma shimmied her hips to straighten her panties and her skirt, standing presentably again as she huffed and gazed at the promises on that paper. Endless beauty, fame and fortune - what more could Bulma want from life? She'd already trampled all over Yamcha's heart with her actions this evening, so there was no chance of claiming a wonderful love life. She could never continue on with him, denying him of the truth. She might've been ruthless, but she wasn't heartless.

When Bulma looked up from the contract, she noted the diminishing luminescence of the room as Vegeta's handsome face was staring back at her, again contoured by the shadows of the dim lighting, yet just as breathtaking as his face looked for the brief moment she saw him in the light.

"Well, then." Bulma retrieved her jacket from the wingback chair and slipped the contract in its pocket. "Have a good night, Vegeta."

When Bulma turned for the torch lights and elevator with her jacket slung over the crook of her arm, Vegeta's voice brought her to a sudden halt. "And Bulma. When you return that document tomorrow, make sure you're wearing _red_ panties."

Bulma inhaled a sharp breath, before continuing her footsteps with a smile. Her decision was already made, which she just realized the devil already knew. She was looking forward to meeting her boss, or rather her new partner, in the morning for a second round. Her soul be damned, she was going to satisfy all of her ambitions and live _this_ life to the fullest.


End file.
